Swallowed up by reefer smoke and sticky brown shots of Jäger,
he sneaks out of the room where his lover for the night lies.
Like a ghost he roams the house searching through
empty cups and bottles scattered everywhere like the stars
in the night sky.

Everyone who survived beer pong and flip cup
watch his drunken journey silently from the couch.
Preparing for tragedy mentally, as we do every time he departs.
We know him as the drunk driver, hell I’ve left with him before.

He finally stumbles upon his keys, hidden under rubble
from forceful fists striking holes in the wall.
We continue to observe the animal in his natural habitat,
staggering to the door he entered high on spliffs,
leaving cocked.

He grips the doorknob, then twists his head back to us
like an owl. Sensing his audience’s discontent he claims,
You ave all see me do this plenty of times, I’ll be fine.

It was the last time I ever heard him speak,
the last time his voice shook the earth.